


In Which Cimorene Runs Away From Home and Becomes a Barista

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Enchanted Forest Chronicles - Patricia Wrede
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Becoming a barista was an act of rebellion for Cimorene. Becoming a barista for dragons was just a bonus.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	In Which Cimorene Runs Away From Home and Becomes a Barista

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayasilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayasilver/gifts).



> Hello! I am not quite sure if this is what you had imagined when you mentioned a “coffeeshop AU,” but this is where my brain went! I hope you enjoy. (I have also never worked as a barista, so my apologies if I messed anything up to those wondrous witches and warlocks (but never wizards) of the coffeeshop).

“So you became a barista as an act of rebellion?” Cimorene’s new coworker asked. What was her name? Al-something. Aliana? No, wait. Alianora. That was it.

“More or less,” Cimorene responded. “There were expectations about what I’d be doing with my life, mostly revolving around marriage, and I wasn’t interested. I’ve always been the family disappointment, what with the under-the-board fencing lessons and the surreptitious magic lessons and the secret cooking lessons, and all other sorts of things that weren’t proper.”

“I wish I knew how to fence,” Alianora said enviously. 

“I didn’t say I was good at it. Only that I’d taken lessons” Cimorene said. “Anyhow, none of that taught me the least bit about how to use an espresso machine.” She gestured towards the oversized, complex mechanism in front of her. “Which my parents would also probably disapprove of,” she added.

“A bonus, no doubt,” Alianora said. “Well, for starters, this is probably unlike most espresso machines. It’s calibrated to work for both dragon-sized and human-sized servings.”

“Dragon-sized?” Cimorene asked.

“Surely you’ve noticed who most of our clientele is?”

Cimorene looked out at the cafe, at the couple of relatively small, human-sized tables, and at the much taller, much larger tables, which sat at eye-level for Cimorene, and probably slightly above the head of someone shorter like Alianora.

“Ah,” she said, intelligently.

“We _are_ Mountains of Morning Coffee, after all,” Alianora said. “For a dragon, we’re a hop, skip, and a short flight away from where most of them live. So,” she said, going back to the espresso machine. “You’ll need to adjust the settings depending on whether you’re drawing a human-sized shot or dragon-sized…”

* * *

After a couple of weeks, Cimorene had gotten the hang of things. She’d also grown to realize why all the baristas seemed to have biceps of steel after she tried carrying around mixing bowl-sized servings of coffee. Even a shot of espresso by a dragon’s standards would be far larger than a large cup of drip coffee for a human. 

There were also regulars, whose orders she was starting to recognize. Tokoz was an elderly dragon who would inevitably enquire whether they had Turkish coffee, give an almighty sigh when he found out that, no, they still didn’t, and then order a dark roast with an extra shot of espresso, which he would dump an alarming amount of sugar into.

Roxim was a rare dragon who was tea-drinker, and he favored earl grey.

Woraug seemed to take a sort of perverse delight in ordering the most complicated drink he could think of, taking a sip, and then loudly declaring that it tasted disgusting.

There was an elf who came in nearly every morning and always ordered the same two things: medium cold-brew, black, and a large vanilla latte.

There was the girl with the perfect blond curls, who seemed to be slowly making her way through the entire menu, but always asked for her drink to be “not too hot, not too cold, but just right,” whatever that meant.

And then there was Kazul, who, upon tasting a cherry-flavored mocha that Cimorene made for her once, declared that she was going to kidnap Cimorene and keep her as her own personal barista. It was hard to tell if a dragon was joking or not — their facial expressions didn’t quite map onto human ones — but Kazul was grinning, showing all of her (very sharp) teeth. Cimorene just laughed nervously and Kazul dropped some extra coins into the tip jar.

Thanks to the gossip from Keredwel and Hallana, Cimorene found out that Kazul had ordered that same drink in the past, but had been dreadfully — and vocally — disappointed until Cimorene had come onto the staff and been able to produce the drink to the dragon’s exacting standards.

* * *

Cimorene expected trouble when a gaggle of young dragons, too young to have decided their sex yet judging by their lack of horns, poured in all at once. They stared up at the menu and elbowed each other while whispering back and forth. Finally one of them, with dark green scales, went up to the counter, and, between giggles, said, “I would like (heeheehee) a mint (eeheeehee) hot chocolate!”

“What size would you like?” Cimorene said, struggling mightily to maintain a neutral expresssion.

“Large!”

Gasps and further giggles came from the peanut gallery of dragons.

Cimorene dutifully handed over the gallon-and-a-half of mint hot chocolate once it was ready, and surreptitiously watched as the juvenile dragons circled around the table where it was ceremoniously placed.

“You try it!”

“No, you!”

“Mint! You’re crazy!”

“I’m not touching it.”

Finally, the dark green scaled dragon proclaimed, “I’ll try it!” and took a large, loud slurp while the other dragons watched in awe.

“Eugh!” the dragon proclaimed. 

“Aaaaah!” another dragon with blue scales yelled. “Did it extinguish your flame?”

The dark green scaled dragon coughed, with a small fireball that thankfully fell harmlessly onto the stone floor. “Ackgh,” they said, pawing at their tongue. They then went back over to the counter. “Can I haf a glah of wa’er?”

Cimorene handed over a pitcherful of water.

“Hank-you.” The dragon poured the entire pitcher down their throat. “Bleagh.”

As if right on cue, Kazul entered the coffee shop. She craned her neck and glared at the young green-scaled dragon. “What on earth are you doing?” she asked.

“Guaa-ma!” the young dragon exclaimed.

“Don’t you ‘Grandma’ me,” Kazul said severely. She sniffed at the giant mug of mint hot chocolate and then recoiled. “What is this?” she asked, glaring around at the youngsters, some of whom ducked their heads and bent their necks into compressed S-shapes as though they were trying to make themselves as small as possible. “Are you drinking mint?”

“No,” said one of the dragons, while another simultaneously said, “Maybe.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Kazul said, while shoving the entire gang of young dragons out of the coffeeshop. “Out, out, out. And just wait until I tell your sires about this.”

“Awww, Kazul,” whined the blue-scaled dragon.

“And as for you,” Kazul said, turning back to the green-scaled dragon, who was gulping down another pitcher of water, “quite frankly, you’ve probably been punished enough.” She turned to Cimorene. “Do you have anything cinnamon-based?”

“We have a cinnamon latte for the fall?” Cimorene tried.

“Good. Add a few extra pumps of that cinnamon syrup you have,” Kazul said. 

The young dragon stuck out their tongue to its full length and looked at it accusingly.

“Oh, stop that,” Kazul said. “You should know better than to eat any cooling herbs, even if they are in coffee.”

“Ho’shock-late,” the youngster corrected.

"I don't care if it was in hot chocolate or in hot milk or whatever," Kazul said. " _You_ are in hot water. There is adventurous, and there is plain recklessness, and that is the latter. You're lucky I know the antidote. Thank you," she added, taking the drink from Cimorene and handing it over to her — grandchild? Kazul hadn't looked that old, but it was hard to tell with dragons sometimes. "Kids," she said to Cimorene, with a roll of her eyes and irritated swish of her tail. "I apologize if they've been a bother."

"Not at all," Cimorene said. "It's been a slow afternoon." Indeed, the coffeeshop was otherwise empty.

"Well. Nonetheless. How much was the coffee?"

"It's on the house. I should've known better than to sell that hot chocolate to them."

"Not your fault," Kazul said. "I'm sure they don't teach you anything about that sort of thing in…er…coffee-making school, or wherever."

"More like finishing school," Cimorene said.

"Finishing what?"

"Finishing learning how to be a princess. Lots of embroidery, knowing which fork to use at a formal banquet, and how deep to curtsy depending on who you're meeting."

"Princess, hm?" Kazul cocked her head thoughtfully as her grandchild slurped down coffee in the background. "You know, if you're interested, I definitely have an opening for a good princess…"


End file.
